It's All Over But The Crying
by youlooklikethunder
Summary: "I was serious you know. When I said I'd kill you." (one-shot)


"We've all done things we want to forget, House." Thirteen slipped on her shoes.  
>"Like what? You're hardly old enough to tell ghost stories. Your mom died, you're dying. Big deal. Cry on Foreman's shoulder."<br>"Like the guy who held a gun on me."  
>House had forgotten that. It wasn't exactly directed towards his train of thought right now.<br>"I try to forget he didn't empty that shot. I try to forget that I lived through that."  
>Her jacket was pulled on hastily. "And not because I'm dying. Because I lived through it."<br>"Is it me? Have I rubbed off on you?" House half-jokes.  
>"I'm sure the term 'rubbed off' is not without double meaning. If so no, not in the way you've thought of it." She bites out, more of a sarcastic comment than a malicious one.<br>"Obviously you've thought of it." He challenges.  
>She stops to look at him. "Who doesn't think about screwing the boss for one reason or another? You'd know." she shuts her locker.<br>It's been a raw week. He and Cuddy were done and no one had really pushed it (unless their name was Wilson). Thirteen wasn't anyone; he had forgotten to remind himself.  
>He lifted himself up with his cane. "I was serious you know. When I said I'd kill you."<br>He hadn't even checked if anyone else was in the locker room. Hadn't even known why he was there except Thirteen was hiding something. A feeling he knew he didn't want to feel alone. He'd never admit that either of course.  
>"I know. You've lived besides circumstances too fucked up for anyone else to see. Good for you, good for me."<br>He caught the door before it closed and stepped out. He didn't expect her to be waiting for him.  
>"Walk me out." Again - just a comment this time. Not an order.<br>He could do that. He didn't do orders anymore.

**;;;**

It's been three weeks of the same accord. He walks/limps her to her car and there is no goodbye. There is no good mornings either. They're all the same, the days. Long and agonizing for the simple reason that they have to go through it.

"Do you want to kill me?" She asked.  
>"You have lived past your nine lives." House shrugged. "I think it's about time."<br>"Good. If you don't I don't know what to do. I don't think anyone will let it happen. I'm done. I'm just done." Her eyes were a coral brown. Darkened by the sinking ship she was right this second. "Might just take you with me."  
>"You're getting sentimental."<br>"You're an ass. And a pain in the ass. There's a reason they use pain in that expression." Thirteen took the test, nodded to the final diagnosis and exited the laboratory. Her head suddenly popped back in, "Not just for anal sex."  
>He smirked.<br>"Pain in my ass." He said into the empty room before pulling the pill bottle out of his jacket and drowning in them.

**;;;**

It's not a date. A few beers and simple conversation still ends in cold beds and buried hearts.

**;;;**

"There are some people who can give. I'm not one of them, House."  
>"You're telling me like I don't know that already. Like I care." House finished off his drink.<br>"I'm telling you because you're the only one who will believe it. Maybe I need to have someone who knows, know it's the truth. You do that, don't you? Truth."  
>Thirteen's picking up her things like a teenage girl pissed off at the dumb idiot who said the wrong thing.<br>"Stop pretending you're pissed off." House says evenly. "Let me see them."

An hour and a half later he has the papers in his hands, reading the latest update on her condition. She's been going to a doctor four hours from here. She didn't need anyone else to pry and he didn't care either way as long as she did her job.  
>He scowls and looks at her squarely. "You'll be useless to me soon."<br>She laughs. That's the closest to endearment they have. It's a steady morose dread they both share and it works. It's bitter truth and it's real.

**;;;**

They share glance when she slips up. He distracts when the others catch on. Thank you, you're welcome in silent mode.

Silence mode soon moves on to touching mode. His hands are broken and strong while her bones are feather light and steady to hold onto. He can't abuse her when he's playing with an abuser. It's an equal priced deal. So scoot on and move over.

**;;;**

It's never happened at work, that's just no interest besides whatever that hospital holds inside it. It holds them inside and the only outpour, well, that's what' flooding inside and too hard to reach when everyone is watching.

**;;;**

"This is boring. This life. I can't do it anymore." Remy says. It's moved on to Remy.  
>The rest of them have noticed but when he looks them in the eye they know damn well they don't say anything about it.<br>"Then don't." He slips a small dose in her hand.  
>She glances into her hand and rolls her eyes. "Vicodin?"<br>"Don't give me that face. It's rather bitchy on you." He himself pops his in his mouth.  
>"Don't' get me wrong, I'd like to be taken out of here but my mind is fine where it is. Besides, my body is failing me not my mind."<br>"What do you think is telling you that you're going to die. All day, every day. What reminds you? Whether it's true or not the point is it doesn't matter. You're here. Now. Who gives a crap about later if you don't want to be in it in the first place?"  
>"Stop talking to me like I'm one of them." She tosses the pills on the table and walks off.<p>

**;;;**

He finds her in the bathroom crying a storm.  
>"It's going to be fine. Not okay but it's going to be just fine. I can guarantee that. I'm a doctor."<br>That brings a laugh out of her. It also makes her cling that much harder now that he's got his arms around her.  
>She hands him his cane when the storm clouds start to recede.<p> 


End file.
